Gemstone
by alwayswritewithcoffee
Summary: The Gemstone was a place built on sleek sophistication, not that it would stop a murderer. The tale of how Castle, Beckett, and the crew solve a case in the hours leading to their wedding.


_A/N: Surprise! A new story! I know it's not an update for 'Manhattan' (that's coming), but this is a idea that popped into my head off a tumblr conversation and largely wrote itself. It's just gonna be a handful of chapters. Nothing major._

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Sapphire, Ruby and Diamond. They were names that belonged in one of his novels, perhaps as a set of teenage triplets to a business mogul and his slightly oblivious wife. Or maybe they'd remain strippers, though Rick felt that he'd have a hard time topping the moniker's of the tio in combination with their place of employment 'The Gemstone'.

It was a pairing that should have induced groans and eye rolls, but the Gemstone was a place built on sleek sophistication. The booths were supple leather, the service top notch, the alcohol and the food on par with many a five-star restaurant. It was meant to be a Gentleman's Club, a spot for those who had money to spend and wished to ogle a naked body in the relative luxury to which they were accustomed.

And, deeply in love or not, Richard Castle was a man and, in that moment, his eyes were certainly gazing at a place where his lovely and formidable fiancee would disapprove - though he suspected Katherine Beckett's eyes were also currently absorbing some unmentionable part of the male anatomy.

After all, she was in the building. Hell, it was Kate who was largely responsible for the tightness in his jeans rather than the well-endowed blonde who was contorting her body around a stainless steel pole in a way that put further strain on the white crop top she was wearing.

Mmm, Kate. His devious and delicious detective. The sort of woman who sent him unrelenting text messages until he'd snuck away from the boys and his own bachelor party, who had cajoled and teased him within an inch of losing his mind in the darkness of the hallway that separated the two sides of the club - one for the girls, and one for the boys.

Though, really, he didn't think anyone would complain if you chose to take in a show from the same gender.

So although Sapphire was attractive, though she and Ruby were now involved in some choreographed routine that had Esposito whistling his approval, he was still firmly fixed on a willowy brunette and, maybe, trying to think of a way to entice her to abandon Lanie, Madison and her other friends for a little…..

"Castle!" The sound of his last name jerks Rick from his lust and alcohol induced haze, with one Lanie Parrish standing with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow arch that he's sure she learned from Beckett. "Your services are needed in the back….'

His what? Rick blinks himself back into the world, slowly aware that his friends have left him at the table with the stripper trio, of whom look shaken. He notices as he rises that Diamond is crying, and in that same instant, that her breasts are about one heaving sob from spilling out of the tiny black swatch of material they've been stuffed into. And it takes him a moment to avert his eyes, to remember that he was needed….somewhere, and then he wastes another minute aimlessly walking in circles around the floor of the club until he sees the impossibly long and toned legs of his fiancee that are balanced on two thin sticks of black patent heels.

Sex on legs. That's what she is. And he has to smile, forgetting all about Lanie's request in favor of wrapping his arms around Kate and gently pressing his hips into her backside. A backside that is trapped in a tight red swatch of material that gives him a glorious view of her assets. "Kaaattte," Rick all but whines her name as his lips find a couple of inches of skin peeking through her hair, and his tongue darts out to taste it before he's really considered the repercussions of his actions.

His reward is the hitch of her breath, a stifled sound from the back of her throat that sounds far dirtier than he expects she wanted it too. And then there's the subtle shift of her hips, the press of her backside into his that makes a groan fall out of his mouth.

"Can we go home?' he asks the question with another press of his mouth to her neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin in the way he knows she likes. It's a sure fire way to get Kate to agree to leave, so when her hum of agreement is accompanied by the heavy pull of her fingers against his hair, he's left blindside and confused.

"Focus, Castle," Kate hisses when she turns to face him, though her eyes are dark and her pupils blown wide by what he knows is the brilliant combination of Beckett when drunk and needy. "We have a murder and I'm…." she hisses again, swatting his hands away when they begin to trail over her sides, "I've got to focus. Gates is on her way, and CSU and you cannot _distract_ me right now…."

And though she's firm in her tone, her eyes are telling him a different story. One that involves sneaking away and letting him finish the game she had started with her texts.

So he reaches for her again, ready to assure her that they can be fast, but Kate sidesteps him. It's embarrassingly predictable in the way which he stumbles into the room, reaching wildly for the edge of a table to maintain his shaky hold on gravity, but he still notices the body - completely naked but for a bright crimson stain across the throat and the resulting blood spatter.

"Meet Jordan Underwood, also known as Garnet," Ryan says from his perch near the body, looking far too sober for the amount of alcohol he's consumed.

Damn Irish blood.


End file.
